An invitation to a formal party ((OPEN ROLEPLAY))
By
DJ_Shecky,
Posted on: 2005-09-18 10:32 in Roleplaying
"I ain't no freakin' celeberty. Forwerd this ta Ascendant. He's a celeberty."
Dr. Wisteria glared at HEROID. She hated when, during the middle of a session, he transformed from human to robot form. The robot had no face for her to read. Somewhere in Paragon City there had to be a parapsychiatrist who was also an empath.
"Like it or not," she said calmly, "You have attained a certain popularity as a result of your animated show. You should go."
"But I hate parties like this..."
"Only because you will have to wear a suit and tie. If you could go in sneakers and a t-shirt, you would go just for the free booze."
"Well... yeah..."
"Well... yeah. You will go. You will behave yourself. You will NOT get falling-down drunk, and you WILL have a good time."
"I AIN'T gonna go. I AIN'T puttin' on no monkey suit..."
"If you take Julia, she will have to dress up too. In an evening gown."
"Julia...?"
"More than likely many of the ladies in the superhero community will be there -- dressed in evening gowns."
"...Julia?"
Dr. Wisteria smiled. "I'm going. I was invited more because of my book than because of any derring-do I have attained fame for."
"...Julia."
Dr. Wisteria looked at her watch. "Okay, Roy. Your time is up. Out."
Roy grinned. When your shrink saw you no-charge, then she had a right to run you out when she wanted to.
Roy looked at the invitation in his hand.
"Hey, Val, one more thing. When ya send yer reply, would ya RPMC me too?"
Kelp scratches his head as he leafes through his mail. "An invitation from someone I don't know to a type of party I'd not usually go to. Er. Okay. Uh."
PTab took that moment to leap out of Kelp's closet, and latch onto his head. "I WANNA PARTYDANCE LIKE IT'S 1802 AND THE DOGS OR WAR BECON MY BACON!"
Kelp peeled PTab off of his head, and carefully set the android on the ground. "No, PTab, you can't go."
"Awwww. I wanted to ride an ostrich." PTab began sulking and sliding around the room without picking up his feet. Kelp facepalmed, and sighed. He shouldn't of made PTab so cute. Or, conversely, so insane.
"...you can't go."
"PLEEEEASE?"
"...no."
"But I could clean my room!"
"You live... in a closet."
"It's a messy closet!"
"...what would you do to clean it?"
"I'd vaccume the potatos!"
"...chips? Skins?"
"POTATOES." PTab began to do a dance on the coffee table, then did several backflips in the air, and landed on the table next to Kelp.
"..." Kelp sighed, and sorted through his mail some more. No matter what he did, it's likely PTab was going to show up at that party. PTab always found a way to do what he wanted. He resigned himself at that moment, and handed the invitation to PTab. Besides, if he was going to go, he could just go with Sidney... assuming she got one of those invitations.
PTab spun around madly, and stopped. "I NEED A TUX!" He dashed madly out... no... through the door, leaving a large hole, and splintered wood everywhere.
Kelp frowned, and got out a broom.
"...and to think I designed him partially to be a cleaning robot."
Animation major and old-school CoHer.
Art, Animation, and Stuff:
DA Tumblr Vimeo Youtube
Tess opened the formal-looking envelope and read the invitation contained inside.
"Curious..."
She ran over, in her mind, the possibility of whether this was indeed someone she should be familiar with. So many new faces visited Gemini Park, and she tried to greet as many people as she could, so it was difficult to remember who she had met and who she had not. She decided, however, that this name did not ring any bells.
It sounded like a very pleasant, formal event, and she had been so disappointed to miss her chance to attend Bridget's ball. Perhaps she could give this a try?
She smiled to herself and made a mental note to ask Parzifal if he, too, had received an invitation in the mail...
A quick right down another corridor, the two walked quickly. A tall man, spiked red hair, in a full suit with a silver tie, and a slightly shorter man with long blue hair, only a step behind him, carrying himself with clearly military trained movements. "Septa, you're not going."
"Oh?" Septa responded.
"Remember Red-Eye?" The blue-haired man asked.
Septa stopped and whirled around, with a glare. "I was acting on orders then and you know it."
They started walking down the corridor again, walking as quickly as they spoke. "Not my point. I refuse to let you attend a party for an unknown element. Regardless of who else attends. There is no telling what might occur."
"Nice try. Don't make me bring you to my trophy room again, Sabe. If it helps, though, I'll fit up the link again. If your suspicions are right.. at least that way you'll have a feed." Septa told him. His associate nodded.
"Very well. See to it." Without warning, he dissapeared into a room. "Alri-" Septa started, before realizing he was alone. With a sigh, he proceeded down the hallway. Cell phone in hand, he dialed a number and began leaving a message. "This is Septa, calling about the request you sent earlier for The Cape to attend your party.. I'll make arrangements for a couple DJs as well as myself to attend.."
((Part 1 of 2. I'll have Julia's peice up in a bit))
Parzifal shuffled his mail as he entered his apartment, shoving the door closed with his foot. "Bill, bill, junk... when did I get on this mailing list? St. Francis of Assisi High School raffle..." He paused for a moment, musing. "Mayhap, I can spare ten dollars for my alma mater. Junk, magazine...."
The knight paused. Behind the magazine was a pale grey rag envelope, written in a small, precise hand to Adam Phillip Astor, with a very familiar return address. He stifled a groan. "Grandfather." Shaking his head, he slid a finger under the flap. Inside were two items: a letter on the same grey rag, and another, smaller envelope, this one cream linen-weave. Parzifal opened the letter first, and read it.
My dear grandson,
It is my hope this letter finds you in good spirits and health. In light of your twenty-fourth birthday on the twenty-sixth of this month, I have decided to send a gift to you that I believe will be of no small use when you finally take your place as head of the family, after my passing.
There is a young gentleman who has recently made residence in Paragon, Alexandre Ivanovich, whose birthday is also upcoming. Though he is nouveau riche, he has shown excellent taste and decorum in setting up his new abode. He has also shown great deference to me, inviting me to the celebration of his birth. However, I believe it would be better for you to attend in my stead, as he would be a more suitable acquaintance and contact for one of your age. You may find enclosed the invitation to this gathering... my birthday gift to you.
In addition, I have informed my chauffeur to make available any car of mine you wish to use. I know you have one of your own, but your little green Civic will not make the right impression. Proper clothing will also be provided, should you lack it, along with anything else you may require.
This is an excellent opportunity. You would do well to take advantage of it.
Happy birthday, Phillip.
With much affection, your Grandfather,
Terrence Astor
He stared at the letter for a minute longer, and re-read it. He looked at the invitation, then back at Grandfather's letter again. There was only one appropriate response, to his mind.
"D'oh!"
Links to my Virtueverse crap
Defcon opens the invitation.
A Party, I must respond, and unfortuantely can't help him feel welcome since I will be unavailble on the 23rd of september.
At least is was nice to get an invite to something for once. I hope he has a good time.
Defcon 0 - (D4 lvl 50),DJ Shecky Cape Radio
@Shecky
Twitter: @DJ_Shecky, @siliconshecky, @thecaperadio
When you air your dirty laundry out on a clothesline above the street, everyone is allowed to snicker at the skid marks in your underoos. - Lemur_Lad
Will scanned through the mail that Jeannie had already opened for him while he surveyed the Talos skyline. Hed been particularly hard to reach the past few weeks, and had done most of his work from a cellphone between missions. Jeannie suspected that something was up, and shed even commented on the transformation that his body had undergone as of late. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep his two lives separate. But, as near as he could tell, hed done a good job so far, and no one had suspected his secret identity. Today, though, he had vowed to go into the office for some facetime with her and some clients.
One article of mail caught his eye. A crisp cream-colored envelope sat on the top stack, the only writing on the outside a calligraphy proclaiming the recipient to be Mr. William Hunt. Slipping a hand in and pulling out the paper inside, he smiled warmly.
So
I wonder if this is the son of
quite possibly. There arent all that many Ivanovich with the money to buy in that neighborhood. He mulled the invitation over and clicked the intercom button on his phone.
Jeannie, mark my calendar for the September 23rd birthday part at the Ivanovich residence. Ill need my tux cleaned and pressed, along with my best suit just in case its less formal. Uh-huh. Yeah, you read it too. Yes, Im sure it will be quite fancy, but I wont be taking the Maybach to this event. Lets go with the SLK instead. Thanks a bunch.
Hanging up the phone, he steepled his fingers before pulling up Google to find out more about this Alexandre Ivanovich
The Aerie
Jessica Starsmore, better known by some as the American Ace, stared at the invitation in her hands in disbelief. "Who the heck IS this, anyway...?" she muttered as she read over it a second time to see if there was anything she missed the first time. After determining that yes, some guy she had never met before was inviting her to his birthday party. This fact had inspired suspicion that someone was plotting to kidnap her immediately (the Carnival of Shadows HAD done it before to her, after all, and it wasn't like a member of the Talons of Freedom being abducted by some villain or other was a particularly outlandish concept) and thusly she decided to see if she could get a background check on this "Alexandre Ivanovich."
As she walked from the couch she was lounging in to find a decent computer she could use, she ran into Jonny Sureshot, another (infinitely less famous) Talon, who was reading through his very own copy of the party invitation Jessica had gotten, with the sole difference being that this one was, in fact, addressed to him.
"... Jonny, how'd you get that?" she asked, to which Sureshot grinned arrogantly. "That one seems pretty obvious, Jess. This guy has proven his insight into the rich and famous of Paragon City by sending an invitation to the one, the only, the ultrafamous Jonny Sureshot! It's excellent to be finally invited to a party... um, of this stature. Not that I haven't been to parties and all before, y'know?"
Jessica shook her head in disbelief as she put the invitation in one of her pants pockets. Since there was no way any villain group ever would want anything to do with the likes of Jonny Sureshot, this was a legitimate party, and as such she would have to find her nicest suit so she could, at the very least, check out who else went. "A few sports drinks commercials doesn't make you ultra-famous, Sureshot. See you at the party."
American Ace, the bane of DJ Templar's existence.
Beatrice McAllister, also known as the heroine 'Mistress Ohm', regarded the cream-colored envelope, and then opened it.
[ QUOTE ]
Alexandre Ivanovich
invites you to celebrate his birthday with him
on Friday the twenty-third of September
two thousand and five
at seven o'clock in the evening
at his residence at 1256 Founder's Street
Paragon City, Rhode Island
[/ QUOTE ]
Oh my.
THIS looked to be the type of soiree that she'd been needing for ages. What with her own contacts ringing her phone off the hook, plus the Stilettos needing her to assist the new recruits and lend some firepower, she hadn't had downtime to speak of for months.
She started to compose a reply... and then made a phone call.
"Hi Jonathan."
"Yes, I know, it's been months."
"Well, you know about the heroine gig...."
"Rarely."
"I know. And I'm sorry."
"Um...."
"Look, when we were together you didn't have time for me, OK? That's why I left. I told you why then, and you supposedly understood."
"How is it any different, though? I'm serious, Jon!"
"..."
"OK, look, I didn't call to get my butt chewed out, alright? It's sore enough as it is...."
"Well if you'd let me TELL you..."
"OK. (pause) I'm not interested in getting back together, at least not right away, but if you're interested, I'd like to take you to a party."
"Yes, a PARTY. A real black tie affair, OK? Not like those 'Bring a box of Franzia' things you and I always used to go to."
"No that wasn't a dig at your friends. Some of them were mine too, remember?"
"Look, let's not get into it, OK? I'm sorry, I called because I thought you might like to go. Apparently not."
"Yeah you have a good one too."
Bea hung up the phone. MEN!!! She blew air thru her lips in frustration.
She dialed another number.
"Ms. Rae? Yes, this is Beatrice."
"Oh nothing much. Um, listen... you feel like goin' to a party?"
"I dunno, this nouveau-riche Russian guy, the one's got his name in the society pages."
"Oh you got one too? Sweet! You going?"
"OK. Maybe we should call some of the younger Stilettos, then, show up as a group."
"All right then. I'll make some more calls. I'm glad it's more than just one or two of us, Ms. Rae."
"Uh huh. Let me know if you want me to come by and help with the new costume design too."
"Yes. Ok. Bye!"
She dialed a few more numbers, discovering that the entire senior membership of her supergroup had also received invitations, but that some of the younger ones did not. She decided to take one along as a 'party sidekick'.
She quickly fired off a reply to the invitation.
[ QUOTE ]
ON BEHALF OF THE STILETTO HEELED ENFORCERS, VIRTUE CHAPTER
My dearest Alexandre Ivanovich,
Thank you for the invitation to your birthday party.
Beatrice McAllister, also known as Mistress Ohm, will attend. She will be bringing 1 guest.
Warm regards,
Mistress Ohm
Spike Commanderette, S.H.E. (Virtue)
[/ QUOTE ]
Then she picked up the phone again.
"Serge! Hi! Listen, um, that favor you spoke about? Yes, I know, you haven't seen any Tsoo around since we spoke last. That's because I put three triads into the Zig hospital for you."
"No really! I'll bring by some of their toys to show you."
"Ha ha, Serge! No really, um, listen... I got an invitation to this party... "
"Yes! How did you know it was Alexandre??"
"Oh."
"Well anyway, I need to speak to you about that new costume you mentioned? Uh huh. Yes. That one. I think... we'll be going more FORMAL with this design."
"I know. Evening gowns aren't on the menu. Such a pity, I'd look good in a dress. But alas, they're not designed for movement."
"Hey, I've an idea. The City Rep authorized me to wear a cape. Will that work?"
"Yeah, floor length, and we'll pair it up with one of those lovely bodysuits you have."
"Super! Listen, when can I get an appointment?"
"Now? You're KIDDING!!! I'll be there in... 20 minutes."
"You're the best, Serge. Bye!"
Bea thought for two nanoseconds, and then, hurredly changing from her street clothes to her uniform (damn leather bustier!! OOF! I need to visit that personal trainer again!), she exited her apartment and rose into the sky headed for Steel Canyon.
"City of Heroes. April 27, 2004 - August 31, 2012. Obliterated not with a weapon of mass destruction, not by an all-powerful supervillain... but by a cold-hearted and cowardly corporate suck-up."
Will scanned over the little bit of information he'd found on the man that had sent him an invitation. He still wasn't able to connect the dots between Alexandre and what he'd found, except that ne might now be able to place the face with the name. But, as someone with the proclivity to divine information from stray thoughts and situations, this one was nagging him. It wasn't an unpleasant one like past situations he'd been unwittingly thrust into, but nonetheless...
Picking up the phone, he dialed an old friend halfway around the world. He always enjoyed hearing the different dialtones when he called internationally, and this one almost reminded him of a enspionage movie. The receiver on the other end picked up.
"Institute Neftyanaya Moskva, kak mogu ya srazu vash zvonok?"
"Ivan Ilovitch, please."
"One moment," the operator spoke in crisp, slightly-accented English. The phone line clicked several times before a familiar voice picked up. "Ivan Ilovitch. Kak mogu ya pomogeteh vam?"
"Vanya, it's Will."
A slight pause proceeded a hearty laugh. "William Hunt. My God man, it has been ages. How are you? Keeping out of trouble, I hope?" A sly chuckle slightly unsettled Will until he remembered that's how Ivan always greeted him.
"For the most part I'm doing fine Vanya. And yourself?"
"Eh, can't complain. Now, I know this is not just a social call. What deal are you working on now to fatten your American wallet?" Ivan actually had a greater net worth than Will, but he still liked to throw around the playful remarks about the "Yankee" way of life.
Will chuckled lowly and cradled the phone on his shoulder as he grabbed a piece of paper and pen.
"I received an invitation for a birthday party for one Alexandre Ivanovitch, possibly the son of Mikhail Ivanovitch. The name ring a bell?"
The pause on the other end of the phone caught him off guard. Will was about to ask if everything was okay, when Ivan continued.
"Will, let me call you back in a minute. The phone is starting to sound staticy on my end." Will knew the codeword and smiled.
"I'll be waiting for your call, Ivan."
(( Apologies to true Russian speakers, it's been 14 years since I've used the language 
))
"Alexandre Ivanovich...Nice." The white haired man said as he flipped the reservation between his fingers, the wind blowing in from the waters and the cliffs made this time of the evening chilly, but in a strange peaceful sense.
"Shall I respond in the negative Sir?" Serge Patterson said behind him. the one time personal assistant now business partner of William "Kurse" Darkstone still acted as Kurse's personal planner.
"No no. reply that I will be showing, bringing a guest as well... I hear that Ms Madison is back.. and that she seems to have forgiven me for being a Blooda Achloch" Kurse said as he smiled towards the sunset.
"Let's see if two people can attend a social function as friends.. one more time eh Serge."
"here we go again." was the only thing Serge said as he turned around and headed back inside.
"indeed old friend.. here we go again." He smiled one more time.
Kurse Darkstone
PROUD MEMBER OF THE VIRTUE FAMILY!!
Station Manager for RadioFTW!
Member of the Legion Of Freedom!
Proud member of the Paragonian Knights
A white haired man sits inside the large mansion in Founders Falls that belongs to the Masterforce.
Silently, from behind him, a man dressed in the robes of an ancient ninja clan approaches him.
The old looking man smirks, and slightly turns his head, "You're getting good at that. You almost snuck up on me that time."
"Heh. I imagine one of your 'experience' will always be difficult to sneak up on. Something came for you in the mail. The Butler wanted to bring it, but I know you hate feeling like you have servants."
"Indeed, what is it?"
The ninja looking man smirks underneath his cowl and makes his best phoney british accent he can, "Mr. Juan Ramirez, you and one guest are hereby..." he goes on.
Ramirez shakes his head, "Another gala event. You know, when I decided to do this hero thing Lord...I never thought I'd actually be popular. Others like me revel in it, I'd prefer just be left alone."
"Hmm. Then I guess I should tell Mr. Chaning to respond in the negative for you?"
"No. No no. It's been a couple hundred years since I went to an actual formal event."
"Do you have to keep reminding me of your age, old man. It's creepy, you know."
Juan laughs, "Magic will be magic, Ninja."
"I know all about magic, old man. That doesn't mean the magic surrounding you is any less annoying."
"Why Lord Cero, I thought you enjoyed the benefits of my...experience."
"Only when you aren't babbling about some stupid story."
"Yes, well...uncast my magic then."
"You know I can't. No one can, nor would I if I could."
"Then go tell the butler to respond in the positive. I suppose I should get my suit altered. There's so many holes in my splendid waist coat."
"You never cease to irritate me, effite old man."
"Children have no culture, Cero. Don't prove yourself to be one." he looks to see the ninja already gone to deliver the affirmative. "Damn, the boy is getting good at that."
He sits back, hmming to himself. Pondering who to take. He could always take the Maltese Knight and they could both get liquored up real good and make a ruckus. But no, that doesn't seem to suit this sort of event. Who to take, who to take.
He sighs, whispering to himself,
"It's times like this I wish I understood the magic around me, cast it on others. I could have brought Cleopatra...oh could she dance. Or Helen of Troy, such a nice figure... Or even...oh bah. The Ninja's right. You really are an old man, Juan, too old."
((This thread is getting so cool. I wonder what all is going to happen at the actual party?))
Sidney Brewster sang quietly listening to her mp3 player and checked her mail in the elevator.
"I backed my car into a -bill- hmm... hmm... the other day...
Well he just drove off ...junkmail... hmm... ok...
I ran my ...bill... too much oh what can i say...
...something from some Russian...
And we'll all float on okay... and we'll all float on ...new Secret V's catalog..."
She opened the door to her apartment, and floated the mail onto the kitchen table. Her cat purred, and walked in between her legs.
"Oh, aren't you the cutest little thing?"
The cat then headed towards the ktichen, meowing. Sid chuckled.
"Hungry, are we?"
With just a little bit of concentration, Sid had the cabinet door open, and floated the bag of cat food out to the bowl, tipping it slightly. Using her hands, she poured herself a glass of pinot noir, which she set down next to the mail, and headed to her room to change out of her work clothes.
Unfortunately, gravity is a blunt tool, even in the hands of a capable mistress. The bag of cat food settled and changed shape slightly, and as it floated back into its cabinet, it knocked over the trash can.
The trash can fell inches away from the cat, but upset the bowl, knocking food everywhere.
And of course, the cat, in panic, leapt back and ran every which way, knocking over the wine glass.
By the time Sid finished cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, the wine had already ruined the invitation. What she could make out, however, was that some lady named Alexa Ivanov wanted to celebrate a birthday, at seven in the evening.
Sid wondered why it wasn't Alexa Ivanova, but she supposed it could all be ironed out once she phoned to RSVP. After all, it'd be nice to attend a soiree with Kelp~ and naturally, Sid hoped he wouldn't get sick this time.
Or she'd have to kill him. At least until he died from it. And then he'd have to go to the event anyway.
[ QUOTE ]
((This thread is getting so cool. I wonder what all is going to happen at the actual party?))
[/ QUOTE ]
((You are all incredible...and all I put out so far was an invitation. I am speechless.))
((For those inclined to dig for information, I'll try to get back to you soon.))
Shae Firewarder
"Whattaya mean ya ain't go no more size 17 black dress shoes?"
Bill Conley, formerly known as the Old Philistine, proprietor of Bill's Big and Tall Shop, levelled his gaze at Roy.
"I mean there ain't no more. Last pair went out of here yesterday. You think you're the only eight-foot tall guy in town?"
"Hey! I ain't but seven-eight!"
Roy took offense at people picking on his height. He was, after all over a foot-and-a-half taller than before he became HEROID. He never understood why the magically produced body, even though it had his old familar face, couldn't be six-two like his original. Doc Werner had tried to explain a theory about the displacement of mass and matter from one dimension to another, but it was like listening to Smersh and Sasha chatting in Russian.
Roy sighed, then said, "Tell me what ya can do fer me then."
Bill Conley smiled. "Lemme see what I have in the back."
Roy looked out of the shop window. He'd promised Julia he'd take her shopping for a new dress. He felt kinda silly when he thought about it. He hadn't had a drink in days -- not since the Cape's Charity Auction Dance. Cutting back on drinking and shopping for evening gowns. Who'd 've thunk it?
Bill came out of the back room with a box the size of a suitcase.
"Wait'll you get a load of these, my friend," he said, slowly opening the box.
Roy watched him raise the lid and move the white tissue paper away from the contents. His heart sank when he saw the pair of black boots inside.
"Only pair like them in existence!" The Old Philistine held one up in display.
The boots were black all right. Black with silver trim. Not sterling silver. Silver glitter. They were zippered, but with a strip of spandex up the side to allow them to fit snugly. But that wasn't the worst thing about them.
The heels were at least seven inches high, and the soles a good five inches.
"Uh..." Roy said, trying to find a polite way to turn them down.
"Only pair in existence. They were custom made for Doctor Dragontongue."
"Doctor Dragont... Wait... You mean these wuz made fer that guy from Crass? Th' rock-n-roll superheroes?"
The former Old Philistine nodded.
"I used ta be in th' Crass Army when I wuz a little kid... Geez, ya had these in yer back room since th' 70's?"
"No. Doctor Dragontongue gave them to me when I opened my store in '85. His doctor told him if he wanted to be able to walk when he was sixty years old, he'd better quit wearing platforms."
Roy thought about buying the boots. He could take them home, break out some of his old Crass records and...
The boots would put him over eight feet tall. As tall as he was in his robot body. Julia would have to go to a chiropractor after looking up at him all night as it was. And dancing... he was no Gene Kelly, but he liked to think he was at least John Travolta... But seven-inch heels? Dancing?
"Look Bill, I'm gonna have ta pass. Thanks anyway."
Bill Conley shrugged and repacked the boots into the box. "Well, if somebody else comes along, then I can't promise they'll be here if you change your mind."
"I understand."
The little bell above the over-sized door dinged when Roy left the shop. What was he going to do for dress shoes?
Then he remembered a name.
Tony Tromboni. An enforcer for the Family. An eight-foot tall enforcer for the Family.
Tony was a sharp dresser. If Roy could find him, arrest him. Maybe...
"Well, I'd like it cut to here, styled kind of like this" she told the barber. The barber smiled, "Alright." She set to work immediately on the young woman's hair, making conversation. "So, what's the occasion? Just looking for a change?"
"Actually, there's a couple parties coming up.. There's this rather formal one, and then a costume party later in the week. Chance to meet all sorts of people in the community.. figured I'd make sure I set a good impression." the woman in the chair responded.
The barber smiled more as she worked quickly, skillfully. "I think I heard about those parties.. They sound exciting. Kind of thing a city like this needs, to take peoples' minds off the crime, you know?"
"Yup. After this I gotta pick up a dress.. Hey, what do you think about Navy Blue?"
"The hero?"
"No, the color."
"Oh! Well.. you mean for a dress? Would look quite nice, I think."
"Ok.. was a little unsure.. I think I'll do that, then."
The barber smiled again and continued working until she was finished, "Alright, Julia.. there we are."
"Oh that is awesome, thank you. I love it."
Julia paid her quickly, they said their goodbyes, and she went off to pick up her dress.
JJ looked at the letter on the floor of his room in the Tower, confused.
"Mail? Here? Why? Who? Huh. Oh well."
He grabbed the letter, opened it and pulled out the paper.
"Aha, and a hmm, and so... Hmm... Alexandre Ivanowhatsitcalled... Must be for Smersh or something.. No, wait, it's my name on it. Hm. I bet there will be food. And drinks."
JJ grinned, thinking about all the fun things at a party.
"Computer chick!"
A click was heard and a metallic voice answered
"Yes?"
"Answer this! Tell them I'm coming, and that they better get some volounteer firefighters there, it's party!"
The computer sighed as JJ jumped out of a window, triggering at least a dozen alarms.
"Heroes..."
It then proceeded to it's ordered task, but did not mention the firemen.
The old man stood in front of a mirror, looking at his suit...a rather old suit that he had altered for this new event. He turns to look at his compatriot, the only other person in Masterforce he considers a "Gentleman" (No offense Maltese).
The Dark Man standing before him breathes like Darth Vader, and seems to regard Ramirez for a moment.
"Sir Ramirez, I am still at a loss as to why you asked me to see if Serge's alterations fit. I'm hardly qualified."
"You were a Dark Lord of the Knights of Darkness. You're a gentlemen. So speak up Lord Zero, what do you think?"
The dark armored man breathes a couple of more times before turning his back.
"Ramirez. I have asked you time and again not to call me that."
"It's your name, isn't it?"
"No more than your name is actually Juan Ramirez. My people are gone, Juan. Call me by my given name. It is only right. And I don't know what to tell you about the suit."
"You're a gentleman! Just look at this splendid waistcoat. What do you think?"
"You mistake my manners for gentlemenliness. You've lived over 4 millenia, and you care what I think?" The breathing continues, "Fine. It looks good."
Ramirez's face drops and he sighs.
"Thaddeus. I'm serious here. How does it look? I haven't worn this suit in around 200 years. If I'm going to make a public appearance on behalf of Masterforce, I might as well look good doing it."
"What do I know about looking good? Look at me, Ramirez. I don't have the gift of healing as you. I am stuck in this damn life support unit until Mral and I either figure out how to utilize the darkness to heal me, or I die."
"Talk about a joykill...."
"Fine. You look great, is that what you want to hear? You look fantastic, Ramirez."
"Now you're just saying that to shut me up. You're acting like the ninja."
ArchiteuthusDux, as the papers call him, turns...Vaderish breathing continuing. He points a finger at Ramirez, "Never accuse me of acting like that impetuous child! He lacks the calm and training of a dark knight! And I was being serious!"
"Well. The Dark Knight acknowledges his heritage when it's convenient. You should work on that, Thaddeus. Consistency is the key to excellency...after all. And you're just pissed because the ninjas hero name includes your actual last name. But fine. If you say I look good, I look good. I haven't gotten this far by not trusting my friends. What say we pay?"
"Thank you, Ramirez. I'm sorry for my outburst. I am glad to call you friend...yes, let's. And I hold nothing against the Ninja. He's just a boy, after all."
Ramirez smirks, "Oh Serge! Do you want paper or plastic?"
Alexandre Ivanovitch took one more walk around the garden before his guests arrived. Everything looked to be in order for the party. The caterers were set up. He could hear the musicians tuning their instuments and running over bits of songs. The old fashioned streetlamps used to light the garden glowed like multiple small moons across the grassy lawn and in the carefully manicured "woods." He strolled slowly down the path examining everything, looking for anything that might be out of place, and then he came to the clearing.
It had been his destination all along, actually. He looked at the statue in the grassy clearing. There were statues all over the garden, but this one was different. This one could almost be a real girl frozen in mid step, looking over her shoulder. She appeared to be somewhere around 17 or 18 years old, and she was dressed in a very old fashioned Russian festival gown. He touched the cold stone, ran his fingers over the sleeve of her dress. Then he stepped back and looked at her again. He could see why his father had insisted on acquiring it, on sending it over to America. The art historians that had looked at it thought it modern...and possibly not even stone. The other statues in the garden were classical Greek or Roman nymphs and nyads. Their marble showed the wear of centuries, of their travel from the gardens of the Mediteranean to this garden in Paragon City, but this one...this one statue's icy white stone showed no wear at all, though Alex's father had insisted that the statue was nearly 200 years old. The brocade design on her gown could be traced. The texture of her skin...
"Alex! There you are darling!" The voice of his latest conquest rang out in the clearing, and he snatched his hand back from the statue, and then turned to meet the woman aproaching. He admired the gold dress that showed off her form, then his eyes slid up to her hair, her face. Finally he shifted his attention to what she was saying, "...and we were all wondering where you had got to."
He threw his arms out wide and said, "Well, you found me. Let's go back in before people start arriving." He took her hand and tucked it securely into the corner of his arm. Together they walked back up the path to the house, leaving the statue alone in the clearing...frozen in midstride as if she were fleeing something or someone...looking over her shoulder....
Shae Firewarder
The caterer thought she was holding up pretty well all things considered. She had several different serving locations with differently themed foods in each, two kitchens and a wet bar to run and all the emergencies so far had been minor. The blinis were the best her kitchen had ever turned out tonight and it looked like a packed house so if the party continued well her reputation might be made.
And then someone asked about the ice carving.
She didn't HAVE an ice carving out there tonight. She had meant to have one. They were elegant and popular and had almost become mandatory for a party like this. However a rival catering outfit had poached her carver away and she hadn't been willing to use an unknown talent. This had been disaster number one. It had been fortunate that Mr. Ivanovitch hadn't specified an ice carving in the contract...possibly because of all the real statuary in the house and garden.
The man speaking to her was gushing about the quality of the ice carving, the detail, the texture. The caterer made a mental note to find time to seek this marvel out sometime between putting out fires in the kitchen and squabbles amongst the staff. She thanked the man for his compliment and before she could try to pry the location of the carving out of him without giving herself away, she saw a server almost lose a tray...She quickly caught and steadied the edge of the heavily loaded tray that the passing server had been about to drop. The sweating server got the tray under control and then the caterer heard her name being called again to deal with a shortage of caviar.
Shae Firewarder
Red-Eye felt the tension almost immediatly, feeling the familiar sensation of a block of ice in his stomach that signified that he had a decision to make. A decision that would ultimately multiply, until it overwhelmed all other previous policies and decision.
On the one hand, the shrimp was better. On the other, the cavier appeared more cultured. Was he here primarily to enjoy himself, or impress his host? Either way, he knew he couldn't take both. Rich people, as a whole, had a very strict code of actions.
<Ah, would that be you, officer Aleksei?> The fluent russian gave away the speaker before he turned, but he still affected a pleasantly surprised expression.
<Just Aleksei, Comrade Ivanovich> Red-Eye said quietly, swirling his champagne glass absently. He notes, amusedly, that the reporters that had drawn up nearby had wandered away again when they realized they weren't going to understand a word of the conversation, <I am now part of a hero group, not the classical KGB. Besides, this is not the motherland, yes?>
<Of course, of course.> Ivanovich pretended the look over the spread, though he must have spent hours plotting every detail, <I must say, Comrade, that I was a little surprised to see you answer my invitation considering our...disagreement in economic system?>
<Perhaps Paragon has mellowed my mood a little> Red-Eye flashed a smile diplomatically. He was an infiltration specialist, but he wasn't used to going in as himself, <I'm willing to concede that the system has a few good uses, provided we excercize compassion in its execution. You won't get resistance from us, Comrade.>
<And you have a few bank accounts yourself.> Ivanovich sipped from his glass, a touch of a smile on his lips. Red-Eye shrugged without being phased. He'd been confronted enough times with his money, he had learned to live with it.
<There's that.> He admitted, turning from the spread for a change of conversation, <This is truly an amazing piece you have as a centerpoint, incidentally.>
<Ah, you have some interest in the finer things in life then.> Ivanovich politely turned toward the statue. For a moment, his hand twitched, as if he was denying himself a touch of the icy sculpture, <Possibly one of the finest works I've seen in a long while. It turned out far better then I had hoped.>
<Certainly. I haven't seen its equal.> Red-Eye confirmed, gazing at the sculpture and wishing that he hadn't. Something about it gave him a strange feeling, <I suspect I've delayed you for longer then you intended. I'll release you to greet the rest of your guests, Comrade.>
<Thank you, Comrade Aleksei. I hope to see you again soon.> With that, the playboy slipped off into the crowd to meet and greet. Aleksei, for his part, threw one last look at the statue and turned back to the food. The impression was done, so Shrimp it was.
((This is something that was sent to me in a private message and I convinced the author to let me post it. ))
---------------------
KB TOYS Corporate Headquarters 4:15 Friday, September 16th.
Sir, a moment of your time? A sharp dressed young man wearing a charcoal pin striped suit tailored
perfectly, steps half into a glass office marked Richard Crawlie -President.
Tinker Bell? the only other person in the building dressed in a suit responds in an exasperated voice.
No Sir, James Lewis
I know who you are James, I was there when you married my daughter, but aTinker Bell tie?
Yes Sir, and you wont believe how many other people got to learn my name again today.
Ok, got it. So you learned something in that college after all. Close the door, pour us some G&Ts and tell my why you arent on a golf course somewhere spending the company's money.
Well Sir. Yesterday Tinkr Toy got an invitation to go to a birthday party
So, happens all the time. Tinkr Toy loves parties. If you can fit it into his schedule send him along. Its great publicity, and as Im sure you learned in your fancy college, publicity is good.
Ok boss, Ill set it up then. Guess Ill just see if I can catch the back nine then
Wait a minute you little punk, sit back down. Might I inquire whos party you felt it was important enough to bust into my office on a Friday afternoon?
Well sure Sir, if you think its important and all. . . . Alexandre Ivanovich.
A cream colored invitation gets slid across a glass topped desk.
Um
I dont know James, this is a suit and tie formal event, and weve never even been able to get Tinkr Toy to wear clothes, let alone a suit. Also, since Ms. Galatea moved on, we havent been able to find a spokesman for him, that he doesnt lose
Well boss, I was thinking we could confiscate his invisibility cloak just for this event. Heck he wont need it. We want him to be seen there.
Richard Crawlie blinks for a minute then smiles.
Whats so funny boss? James responds knowing hes not in on some joke.
James. . . Son, let me explain something to you. We make toys here at KB TOYS. As a matter of fact, we even have the number two selling action figure of all time on the market in the form of Tinkr Toy.
Yes Sir, Im well aware of that?
Do you really think we invented an invisibility cloak, a floating targeting drone, and miniature jet boots, not to mention tiny little caltrops that giant robots say ouch when they step on?
Um
. Well Sir
he has them, so I kind of assumed
Laughter can be heard outside Richard Crawlie office for at least 200
Let me explain how this works. Marketing comes up with some new gadget that they think will sell as an accessory. They make it and show it to Tinkr Toy just to make sure he wants it. Then a few weeks later they give him a prototype for him to test before all the Tinkr Toy action figures get one. If, and we have no idea how, or why, the new high tech gizmo works for him, we go into production, and we sell the All New Tinkr Toy with X.
You mean those things dont work? . . . Then, how does he do that stuff?
We dont know. We just know that sometimes he can make a solid chunk of plastic that looks like a ray gun, actually shoot disintegrating rays. But, enough for tonight. I have made up my mind. Tinkr Toy will unfortunately not be able to attend the party. Please send our regards to Alexandre Ivanovich, and also, make sure Tinkr Toy will be patrolling that night. We dont know how many heroes will be tied up at this affair, and it might get ugly out there. Oh, and one more thing. Take off that tie."
Shae Firewarder
Roy was at the party for all of ten minutes before he began to realize how out of place he was.
The estate was gorgeous, as were most of the women in attendance. The host -- young, handsome, and as rich as most of his guests were super -- was surrounded by a mob of powered and non-powered beauties, with one of them hanging possessively onto of his arm.
Many of the men at the party were regarding the host with a bit of jealousy, and Roy for a moment envied the man his social position and wealth. But none of the women around Mr. Ivanovitch matched the one walking at Roys side.
Julia looked breathtaking in her navy blue dress. When they arrived at the party, she was immediately quite a head-turner. Her hair, her clothes she looked like a movie star.
Roy was in the periwinkle blue tux with gold lapels and the white lizard skin shoes he had coerced from Tony Tromboni. Both Icon and the Old Philistine had been out of formal-wear his size. Somewhere in Paragon City, Tromboni was gathering information for an FBI agent Roy had made up who would put Tony in the witness protection program as soon as Roy got the information he needed. A blank, white, titianium robot face was perfect for lying.
So, Julia looked like a starlet, and Roy looked like he should be running a casino in Atlantic City. The contrast wasnt entirely lost on him.
"Would ya like somethin' ta drink, Julia?" he had asked her almost as soon as they arrived.
Looking back, that was probably a mistake. He had said it just to have something to say because he felt so intimidated by his surroundings. Julia wasn't much for alcohol. He'd brought her a martini, and himself, a scotch on the rocks. She had politely held the drink in her hand as they strolled into the posh garden, not drinking, but not pouring it out either. It would, he figured out later, keep him or anyone else from offering her another drink. Himself? By the time they had passed the next wet bar, he was ready for another.
Ten minutes.
Roy looked around for Killer Whale. Lyte. Somebody whose head stuck up higher than his so that he didn't feel like an ostrich in a chicken coop. Maybe they were running late. But if all the big and tall guys in Paragon City had bought out the stock of over-sized formalwear for this party, then where the hell were they?
On the patio, just outside the door which opened from the house onto the ornate garden, Dr. Valerie Wisteria stood chatting with a few handsome lads whose eyes were full of admiration.
Boy, are they barkin up th wrong tree, Roy thought.
Val saw him and waved. He waved back and grinned, then downed his second drink. He turned away before he saw the scowl that appeared on Dr. Wisterias face.
As a waiter walked by, Julia took the empty glass from Roys hand and placed it on the tray he carried. She smiled up at Roy, and if he were just a little bit smarter, he would have taken the hint to not fill his hand with another drink right away. But nobody at the party was going to be captivated by HEROIDs display of intellectual conversation, nor by his insightful, sensitive wisdom.
When another waiter walked by with tray with someone elses drinks on it, Roy grabbed a something on the rocks. It turned out to be gin and tonic, which was never one of his favorites, but seeing as it was his third since hed walked through the door, flavor wasnt exactly what he was looking for
((OPEN ROLEPLAY))
<a crisp cream colored envelope with this invitation inside>
Alexandre Ivanovich
invites you to celebrate his birthday with him
on Friday the twenty-third of September
two thousand and five
at seven o'clock in the evening
at his residence at 1256 Founder's Street
Paragon City, Rhode Island
((You get to pick whether your character or NPC would be invited or not, either as a hero or as a civilian. Invitations to Heroes whose public personas have no known address might get to you through Freedom Corps, as I imagine they have ways of finding you, or calling you to pick something up...))
((Alexandre Ivanovitch is new to the city, about to turn 27 years old, and his father supposedly made a lot of money doing something in Russia(Industrialist?Import/Export?). Alex has just finished setting up his house and he spent a large amount of cash setting things up the way he wanted. He hired a decorator for the house, and the garden is very large with formal courtyards in the front and back of the house, and "woods" with clearings and paths beyond. There are marble statues that mostly appear to be Roman or Greek in the garden and in the house. ))
((Alexandre Ivonovitch's goal seems to be to make a big splash in Paragon City, and in Paragon City at least, heroes are celebrities, therefore his party would not be complete without at least a few big names, if he can get them to come...))
((He's cast a wide net, invited a large number of folks, and is prepared to feed an army very well. There will be a variety of foods available in different rooms of the house and in the main courtyard of the garden. There will be a small orchestra playing in the large front garden courtyard, and a DJ and dancing available in the back garden courtyard. The house is large enough that the different music sources will not interfere with one another.))
~edit~((This is a story thread...as I am not actually planning to have the event in game, though individuals are as always encouraged to RP scenes as they wish to.))
Shae Firewarder